


Firsts

by ficteer



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Anal Sex, First Time, M/M, Shaving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 14:29:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5788840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficteer/pseuds/ficteer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a late winter practice when Abe finally had the tangible thought that something was different about Mihashi lately.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Firsts

**Author's Note:**

> so my computer is pretty much dead, and i feel awful for not being able to post my next update for a while. then i happened to be cruising along my writing tag on tumblr and boom, found this little jewel that never made it to ao3. this was last year's oofuri secret santa gift i wrote for [pk-draw](http://pk-draw.tumblr.com/), a super amazing artist that you should check out if you haven't already!!
> 
> anyway, this is an older fic that i'm keeping in its original form, but hopefully it'll make up for a dead computer killing my update schedule! 8);;

 

He’d noticed a while ago without realizing it, probably, but hadn’t consciously recognized it enough to actually wonder what it was that was different. He spent an entire practice flat-out staring at his pitcher, watching every curl of his body, every pull of muscle, making sure that the idiot hadn’t gone and messed with his stance while Abe wasn’t watching again. But that wasn’t it; Mihashi’s leg raised at almost exactly the same angle every time as it had since they’d fixed his wind up, his body curving the same amount, the ball getting faster but within the realm of believability with their Touri-inspired weight training. Nothing that Abe could put his finger on. But it was definitely different, and it was infuriating that he couldn’t notice what it was. 

Walking home that evening, Abe continued to examine Mihashi carefully under the street lights, making use of the small amounts of illumination to study every inch of Mihashi he had memorized. But then the time came for him to turn down his street, and he watched as Mihashi and Tajima continued down the quiet near-winter road together, now alone and still as baffled as he had been all day. The rest of his walk home, he went over each detail in his mind, and dinner had his mother commenting on his concentrated face with her usual snips about poor digestion, and then a bath, where he stared at the ceiling through the hot curling steam, the blond and gold on the back of his eyelids no different than they had been before. 

It wasn’t until the next morning, early to the baseball field and cornered by Mihashi and eyes wide on the multiple tiny cuts on Mihashi’s throat and jaw that awareness dawned on him without warning (after a brief panic at seeing little droplets of blood and oh God what had his pitcher done to himself  _now_ ), the realization striking him like one of Mihashi’s not-quite-so-rare smiles. He covered his curling mouth with his palm, but he was either too late with the motion or Mihashi had gotten to know him even better than Abe expected, because the blond produced a pathetic attempt at a withering glare that had Abe’s amused grin growing even wider beneath where he was trying to smother it.

“Sh… shut up, Abe-kun, it’s not…!” Mihashi managed to squeak, face blushing fiercely red as he wrung his hands together at his chest. “It was my first time, and… and I don’t really know…” Mihashi’s voice cut off, eyes looking to meet Abe’s before they dropped down to where Abe was buttoning his practice uniform, the pitcher’s fingers tenting as he swayed from side to side. He was working himself up to saying what he wanted to say, Abe recognized, waiting as patiently as he could restrain himself into doing, torn between this astounding humor bubbling in his chest and the mild exasperation that always came with waiting for Mihashi to speak a coherent sentence. “Training camp is in a couple of days, and… Dad won’t be back for a few weeks, and… I don’t know…”

“You want me to teach you how to shave,” Abe interrupted, studying Mihashi’s blushing, nodding face and realizing for sure now that he had been right; Mihashi had been growing tiny amounts of peach fuzz around his jaw, which had probably thrown his face into different shadows, making him look odd, but slowly enough that it had taken a while for Abe to notice consciously. A tiny weight lifted off his shoulders, because nothing was wrong with Mihashi, not really, it was just a simple thing. Or, so he thought, until a gentle hand reached up in his vision and there was a tender touch warm on his cheek. Abe stiffened, eyes wide as Mihashi’s finger trailed down to his jaw, golden eyes following the path with nothing less than awe in them. It wasn’t the first time Mihashi had touched him there, but it had been the first time like  _this,_  without any other reason than simply to  _touch_ , without some kind of accident or baseball-reasoning involved, and the shivers that followed were long and intense and more than a little nerve-wracking. 

“Abe-kun always has soft skin, so I thought…” Mihashi said, cheeks softening from red to pink as his hand retreated out of Abe’s personal bubble. Abe stood, breathless, mouth opening and no sound coming out in an incredibly Mihashi-like fashion. And then, he exhaled sharply, hand reaching up and tugging on his baseball cap in what was probably a futile attempt to hide his burning cheeks, and he glared down at the ground between his feet for its sheer audacity in failing to swallow him whole. Mihashi seemed to be graciously oblivious, which gave him the courage to speak.

“Come over after practice,” Abe said, and when he chanced a peek up under the brim of his hat, he caught the full blast of Mihashi’s relieved and thankful smile, and was left stunned until Hanai clapped a hand on his shoulder a few minutes later, pulling him into a captain’s meeting that blissfully gave him something else to think about.

———-

Practice went smoothly but stretched on for an age of the Earth, at least until the last hour, which ran through Abe’s fingers like water for how quickly it passed. Before he was really emotionally prepared, Hanai was calling for the end of practice, and then the field maintenance and clean up, and then Abe was helping Mizutani stretch, eyes focused intently between the outfielder’s shoulder blades but somehow still aware of Mihashi sitting next to him, skin prickling, distantly aware that Mizutani was chatting his and Izumi’s ears off but not really aware of what he was saying beyond date ideas with someone who sounded a lot like Shinooka. 

Finally, or perhaps too soon, the baseball team was biking to the clubhouse, stripping down and showering in the mass chattering bouncing off the white tiles, and Abe savored the hot water pounding his stiff muscles before toweling dry and pulling on the moderately clean clothes from the school day. He turned to see if Mihashi was ready, watching as the blond somehow managed to communicate with Tajima in what sounded closer to morse code than Japanese, apparently saying something incredibly hilarious for how the third baseman doubled over with laughter and had to clutch Hanai’s arm to keep from keeling onto the floor. Mihashi glowed, then looked to Abe and quickly finished pulling his clothes on.

Tajima parted early instead of walking Mihashi home as was his usual habit, though Abe figured it was likely because Mihashi had probably mentioned going over to his house after practice. It wasn’t long before they both turned down the street towards the Abe residence and walked at a comfortable pace, bike wheels filling the street with noise that mixed with the stunted constance of Mihashi’s voice as he talked, repeating to Abe some joke that Tajima had told him that was probably not quite how Mihashi was saying it, but Abe found himself laughing all the same despite the not-quite-correct punchline. It filled his chest with something heavy and tight to see Mihashi so happy to make  _him_  laugh, and he reached out to ruffle Mihashi’s hair, watching as the blond dodged away with bubbling giggles as Abe’s own snickers filling the road between nearby houses. 

Abe put his bike up, grabbing his bag and tugging it onto his shoulder as Mihashi put his bike gingerly next to Abe’s, taking far too long in his attempt to keep the two from clanging together. Abe half expected the blond to pat his bike for doing a good job with the way he was staring at it all pleased-like when it didn’t knock into Abe’s, rolling his eyes and reaching over to grab Mihashi’s sleeve. With a tug and a, “Come on, Mihashi,” he turned and walked to the front door, sliding it open and feeling the pangs of hunger when the rich smell of dinner rolled out from the kitchen. He toed off his shoes, pausing  and holding still when Mihashi clutched his upper arm while wobbling to get his off as well. 

Dinner was as peaceful as could be expected, which was not very peaceful at all. Shun and Abe’s father swapped turns talking to Mihashi, while his mother kept putting things on his plate, muttering about Abe needing to tell Shinooka to give Mihashi at least one more rice ball or else the poor boy would disappear; and for his part, Mihashi took the attention as well as expected, which was not very well at all, though he didn’t quite go into the catatonic shock that wouldn’t have quite surprised Abe much if any. He did look at Abe for help, more than once, but Abe just snickered around his chopsticks, more than a little amused at his pitcher’s floundering while his cheeks were full of food.

When the meal was finally over and the Abe family dispersed into the household, Abe remembered why Mihashi had come in the first place, and he walked towards the bathroom he shared with Shun, pitcher plodding obediently behind him. He flicked on the lights, shutting the door behind Mihashi once he’d gotten inside, and reached over, resting both hands on Mihashi’s shoulders and guiding him to stand in front of the mirror. He stood next to him, looking at their reflection in the three-part mirror, eyes meeting Mihashi’s as he inhaled past the wiggling embarrassment he felt curling in his chest.

“Okay, first, you want to soften the hairs. It’s best to shave after a shower or bath, so they’ll be soft and you won’t tug on them.” Abe watched as Mihashi nodded, fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt as his golden eyes focused dutifully on Abe’s jawline. “You’ll probably want to shave in the morning, too, since it grows fast.”

“Abe-kun’s… grows really fast!” Mihashi said, leaning over into Abe’s personal space until Abe could just feel the breath rushing over his skin. “I noticed, after practice, Abe-kun has…”

“Yeah, that’s why you’ll want to shave in the morning,” Abe answered, stomach flipping at Mihashi’s apparent careful and frequent study of his face. He shoved the noise in the back of his throat down, reaching over to turn on the hot water to distract the both of them from what felt like the beginnings of a blush on his cheeks. “Okay, first, splash your face with water a few times. And try not to make a mess!”

Mihashi cupped his hands under the water, hissing and yanking them back. Abe rolled his eyes, leaning over further and adding a bit of cold water. Mihashi flushed, reaching back slowly and then splashing his face, getting a bit on his shirt but otherwise keeping most of it in the sink or on his face. He then looked to Abe, who ducked into the cabinetry under the sink and brought out the shaving cream.

“Give me your hand,” Abe said, and Mihashi reached out, palm facing the ceiling for Abe to put the shaving cream. He pressed the button, watching the green gel curl on Mihashi’s skin and flare white at the edges. “Okay, rub that in all over where you want to shave, then let it sit for a few minutes. That’ll make everything soft, and you won’t cut yourself with the razor.” 

Mihashi stared at the shaving cream, tapping it lightly with one finger before smearing it onto his skin as instructed. Abe watched, eyes following the movements of Mihashi’s hands on his chin, cheeks, and jaw, his eyes rolling fondly when Mihashi made himself a small beard and giggled into the mirror. Mihashi then washed the rest off in the sink, looking to Abe with wide eyes. “Is… Is Abe-kun not going to shave too?”

“I don’t shave at night,” he answered, leaning over until his hip pressed into the counter as he rested his weight. “It just grows back by the morning, so it’s a waste of time for me. But you’ve got really light hair, so you might be able to get away with shaving at night if you want.”

“I like how Abe-kun looks at night,” Mihashi said, voice soft as he looked back down and jumbled his fingers together, much like he usually jumbled his words, and much like how he’d just jumbled Abe’s thoughts. Abe stared, stomach definitely doing something strange like it tended to do around Mihashi, grinding his teeth together as he reached over for the razor. 

“So, uh, the razor,” Abe began, holding it out for Mihashi to hold. “It needs to be sharp, so don’t get cheap and reuse it a lot. And don’t press when you shave, just let it glide over.” Mihashi looked at the triple-bladed plastic in his hand, anxiety beginning to pull at his expression as he glanced up to Abe, then back down, and then repeating the cycle again. Abe released a soft breath, reaching over to grab the razor from where he’d handed it over in the first place. “Okay, I’ll do half, and you’ll do half. Sound good?”

“Y-yeah!” Mihashi responded, and Abe sighed out, stepping closer as he took the razor and stared at Mihashi’s white-covered face, wondering which angle he should take. It was easy shaving his own face; he’d done it for years, but shaving someone else was definitely new. Definitely odd, and definitely doing something in his gut that was not probably something it  _should_  be doing, though it wasn’t like he shouldn’t probably be used to that by now. Mihashi had a way of making his body do things it probably shouldn’t on the regular, after all.

Abe licked his lips, reaching over and lightly placing the blade on Mihashi’s cheek. He drug it downwards, slowly, then ran the razor under the stream of water, cleaning it for the next stroke. He turned back, repeating the motion, watching as Mihashi’s cheeks slowly came back into view after being hidden under the shaving cream. Mihashi’s breath was tickling his face, Abe noted, tinged a bit of lemon from the water at practice, and a little sweet from the pocari Mihashi had chugged on their way home. The next stroke wasn’t as straight as the others, Abe saw, staring at the lines of the shaving cream, and suddenly aware that his hands were shaking, just enough for him to notice. He swallowed thickly, dragging the sharp blades along Mihashi’s jaw, wondering if Mihashi was staring at him or if his eyes were closed, but he was too intimidated to look to see to sate his curiosity. Well, not  _intimidated_ , Abe thought, but wracking his brain for the right word failed to produce any results. 

“Tilt your head a bit,” Abe said, and when Mihashi jumped a bit, Abe reached his hand up, putting his thumb on the bone of Mihashi’s jaw and guiding it into the position he’d wanted, Mihashi’s head turned just a bit to the side, neck stretching long as his face turned more towards the ceiling. Abe licked his lips again, dragging the razor slowly, and finally looking up to see if Mihashi was looking at the mirror. Instead, their gazes locked, gold eyes searing into his own, and he ripped his attention back to Mihashi’s throat, scowling fiercely when he felt his cheeks burn ferociously. “Don’t look at me, look at the mirror! You’re supposed to be paying attention to how to do this!” he snapped, embarrassment fueling the loudness of his voice. He pulled the blade away from Mihashi’s neck when he realized that Mihashi would probably flinch at his tone, not wanting to cut his pitcher, but when all he got was a murmured apology, he looked back up, spotting red on the half of Mihashi’s cheekbones he could see, the blush trailing down to the throat that was exposed more with a single stroke of the razor. 

Abe finished his half quickly, his lungs somehow feeling like he couldn’t get enough air in his chest, and he stepped back from Mihashi, rinsing the blade and then handing it over. “Here, you do the other half,” he grumbled, and Mihashi took the razor, leaning over the sink and starting at the cheek, where Abe had started on the other side, each stroke slow and cautious, until finally he had the last of the shaving cream on the edge of the razor blade, washing it off in the stream of water with a triumphant exhale. Abe nodded, taking the razor and chucking it into the trash, turning back to see Mihashi splashing his face with water to get rid of the lingering shaving cream. He then grabbed the soft towel that Abe extended, patting his face dry. He pressed the cotton to his face, staring over it at Abe with wide, golden eyes, and then they closed and there were the soft sounds of laughter from behind it. 

“Thank you, Abe-kun,” Mihashi said, lowering the towel. Abe huffed out a breath, pressing a bottle of moisturizer into Mihashi’s hand. Mihashi blinked down at it, reading the label, then pumped out a bit onto his fingers, working it in to the skin he’d shaved, then finally turning to Abe for praise. Abe leaned back in, fingers trailing over the freshly-shaved skin to see if he’d missed any places, shivering a bit when he felt just how soft Mihashi’s throat was, how nicely it pressed beneath his fingertips, the gentle movement of a swallow beneath his touch. He stroked back up, catching the slender line of Mihashi’s jaw, around until he tapped once, lightly, on Mihashi’s chin, finally looking up to see Mihashi’s eyes dilated and close, lips parted and breath tickling Abe’s mouth. 

“Looks good,” Abe said, watching as Mihashi’s eyelids fluttered when his gaze dropped to Abe’s mouth, which very suddenly felt very lonely on his face; and with that realization came another, that yes, perhaps it wasn’t so strange what had been going on in his stomach lately, perhaps it was butterflies and attraction and all of those fuzzy things, and perhaps, just perhaps, he wanted to kiss his pitcher, and had probably wanted to for a while now. He felt the heat incinerate on his face, a very positive reaction to that thought, a thought that had him swallowing thickly and breathing more heavily as his heart pounded against his chest. His hand shifted where he had been lightly touching Mihashi’s chin, instead cupping his jaw, palm feverishly hot on the cool moisturized skin, and Abe felt the hitch in Mihashi’s breath as much as he heard it. And then, he leaned in, felt Mihashi relax forward, and exhaled a breath as he pressed his lips against Mihashi’s, eyes drifting shut as he stepped in closer, very much liking the smell of his lotion on Mihashi’s skin and how it felt against his own, both hands now holding Mihashi’s jaw. Mihashi’s lips were trembling and soft, and when Abe pulled back, they parted to suck in a gasp of air Abe probably could have used himself.

Mihashi exhaled a quivering breath, eyes half-lidded and dark, fingers curling in Abe’s shirt near his hips. He then released one grasp, slowly lifting a hand to trace around his lips where Abe saw a bit of redness, and then Mihashi was looking at him, cheeks flushing even brighter red as he stared around Abe’s mouth. Then, Mihashi was tracing those fingers around Abe’s lips, paying special attention to the harsh drag of stubble on the pads of his fingertips, and Abe let him, hands slipping down to rest lightly on Mihashi’s  shoulders, his right thumb lightly caressing the softness of Mihashi’s throat to comfort him and encourage him in his exploration. But Mihashi seemed to have no interested in touching with his hands alone, and the next breath Abe intended to take was stolen between their next kiss, instead coming through a sharp inhale through Abe’s nose as their lips moved and brushed together. Mihashi’s mouth felt amazing as it molded just right beneath his own, each moment sending shivers down Abe’s spine that had his toes curling in the plush rug beneath his feet, curling like his fingers at Mihashi’s nape, sliding into blond hair, tugging lightly when there was sudden wetness in their kiss.

Abe let Mihashi deepen the touch, heard the soft sound he made at the sloppy and inexperienced but achingly good touch of Mihashi’s tongue around his own, and he had no idea what he was doing, but it felt good,  _good_ , like sinking into a deep, hot bath and letting every muscle succumb to the warmth and steam. That’s what the kiss felt like, Abe thought hazily, not with words but with an impression, and when Mihashi broke the kiss to pant against Abe’s mouth, he was suddenly aware of just how dizzy he’d gotten without realizing it, and he shivered again. Or perhaps he shivered because of the heavy trail of Mihashi’s touch from his jaw, palm pressing against his heaving chest and tightening stomach, hot even though his shirt, down to where Mihashi’s other hand was still pulling on the hem of his shirt, and then both sneaking beneath the cotton, fingertips hesitant and quivering against the rising goosebumps on Abe’s sides. Abe slightly jerked his hips forward, white hot embarrassment searing his mind at the unconscious action until there was pressure on his forehead, Mihashi’s pressing hard against his, and a nose nuzzling his as Mihashi’s fingers traced invisible lines from Abe’s hipbones to the button of his pants. 

Abe bit back most of the whimper on his tongue, teeth tight against one another as Mihashi’s wrists twisted and the sound of his zipper matched perfectly with the agonizingly muffled pressure where Abe needed it most, but there was no stopping the strangled noise when fingers slipped beneath the elastic of his boxer briefs, Mihashi’s fingers barely brushing his cock but stealing every bit of Abe all the same. Abe carded his fingers through Mihashi’s hair roughly, tilting his head and crushing their lips together, hips arching forward against Mihashi’s hand, silently demanding, begging for more. He exhaled sharply when Mihashi’s fingers curled firmly around him, grip tight within the confines of his clothes, tongue fucking Abe’s mouth messily and leaving him shaking and clutching Mihashi hard. He groaned low in his chest, his other hand reaching around to grab Mihashi’s ass and grip it, earning a soft whimper into their kiss as Mihashi melted against him as much as he could with his hand down Abe’s pants, but before there was another step taken, knuckles rapped sharply on the door Abe hadn’t known he’d been pressed against until he was blinking into wide golden eyes. 

“Taka, are you almost done? I have to brush my teeth,” came Shun’s voice through the wood, inches away from where he’d been a step away from growling at Mihashi to pull his cock out and  _do_  something with it. His whole face burned - no, his whole  _body_ , probably - and he cleared his throat, glaring hard at Mihashi until the boy squeaked and pulled his hand out of Abe’s pants. 

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a sec. Can you go set up the futon for Mihashi?” He looked back to his pitcher, who blinked curiously at him, then blushed and got that stupid-looking noodle-smile, squawking when Abe gripped his arm and pushed him out of the bathroom after cracking the door and making sure his brother wasn’t still there. Abe reached down and zipped his pants, buttoning them and huffing out in annoyance and discomfort. He walked to his bedroom, Mihashi close behind, fingers reaching out and clutching Abe’s shirt in the small of his back as they walked. 

Shun was pulling a quilt into place when Abe ducked his head in his doorframe, and there was a moment where Abe wondered exactly how the hell he was going to get through the door, past his brother, and into his room, all without his sibling noticing that he - and Mihashi, he’d felt so deliciously - had the kind of hard on that he definitely didn’t want his brother to see. Before he could think too much about it, however, Shun turned, brushing quickly past his older brother with stage-whispered complaints about taking so long in the bathroom. Normally, that would have earned him a noogie or two, but Abe let it slide, grateful as he slipped into his bedroom, tugging Mihashi behind him and shutting his door. 

“It’s okay if… I stay?” Mihashi said, peering up at Abe’s face and fiddling with his fingers. Abe fought every urge in his body to roll his eyes and give  _Mihashi_  a noogie, instead just nodding, and he was rewarded with a chirping sound of happiness as Mihashi dug into his bag for his phone. He flipped it open and typed out a message, probably to his mother to tell her where he was, then snapped it shut and dropped it back in his bag, coming to stand in front of Abe with his hands clutched together at his chest, eyes wide and hopeful. He fidgeted for a few moments, eyes darting all about the room and from Abe’s chest to his jaw, then up to his eyes as he blushed a pretty pink. “Um… Abe-kun…. Can we…. kiss some more?” 

Abe huffed out, wondering what in the hell went through his pitcher’s brain sometimes (was it not  _obvious_  that he wanted to kiss more?!), but he bottled the frustration up, knowing that letting it slip would mean an end to anything but Mihashi’s wet-eyed apologies for the rest of the night, and yes, he definitely,  _definitely_ wanted to kiss some more. He reached out and curled his hands in the soft hair at Mihashi’s nape, dragging him into a kiss that was softer than he’d probably meant it to be, one that lingered long after he pulled back, the aftertouch of Mihashi’s lips shimmering just beneath his skin. 

He’d planned on just kissing Mihashi once, calm him down and let him know that yes, Abe was planning on kissing more even after tonight, and then breaking apart to put on bed clothes and drag him into the futon to smooch a bit more before sleeping. He’d planned on those, but Mihashi pressed against him like he hadn’t been able to do properly in the bathroom, and Abe felt the hitch in Mihashi’s breath first-hand, felt the excited clenching of Mihashi’s stomach against his own, and when Mihashi reached up with both hands, gripping Abe’s head and pulling him down into a deeper kiss, Abe laid to the side his plan to stop kissing long enough to change; and then his plan to stop kissing long enough to lie down on the futon as Mihashi’s hands pulled and pushed until a touch of vertigo had them wrapped in a messy heap on the quilt; and finally his plan to stop kissing at all, watching with eyes barely able to stay open as Mihashi reached his arms up to pull his shirt over his head, hovering above Abe and shifting just so until he was straddling Abe’s hips, thighs pressed deliciously along Abe’s sides. 

_Ren_ , Abe thought, all Abe could think, as tender fingers caressed his chest, down to grasp at the hem of his shirt and pull, until Abe curled his arms above his head and lifted up so Mihashi could get him shirtless too;  _Ren, Ren, Ren_ , eyes closed, breath filling the dark of his room like the warm skin of Mihashi’s back filled his hands, head tipping back when lips pressed soft and wet on his collarbones. Mihashi’s hips moved, slowly, achingly, and Abe pressed his forearm hard against his eyes, unable to watch as Mihashi reached down and unbuttoned his pants once more, leaning forward, and then a hot rush of air against his ear, panting breath he knew from jogs and hours of pitching but now would forever associate with this, palms searing his skin where they were pressed flat against his chest. 

“A-Abe-kun, can… do you…” Mihashi’s voice was low and broken against his jaw between little kisses, little more than puffs of air against his skin, and Abe wasn’t really sure what Mihashi was asking, but he nodded, unwilling to say no to anything his pitcher asked of him, just about sobbing when Mihashi’s tongue flicked out to lick his lips, mouth hanging open to breathe. Mihashi swallowed visibly, hips moving minutely against Abe’s and causing them both to exhale softly, those beautiful eyes closing for just a moment before he opened them again to stare at Abe’s face, breathing carefully. “Where… where do you…”

Abe’s hands tightened on Mihashi’s sides, squeezing tight as his mind blazed through the golden haze to exactly what Mihashi was asking, and, “Oh,” Abe managed, every bit of heat in his cheeks spreading all over his body, and yes,  _yes_ , he looked over his shoulder towards the bedside table which was so far away, and the collection of condoms and lube pushed beneath socks, unused since that one time Haruna had mockingly given them to him last summer. But Mihashi wasn’t mocking at all, the noise that drug out of his throat desperate and high as he slipped off Abe and crawled on his hands and knees over to the drawer. He looked back to Abe as his hands hovered over the handle, cheeks burning red even in the dark room, and Abe nodded, giving his pitcher the permission to open it and rummage through. Abe watched as Mihashi pushed the socks aside, and somehow the sight was like a straight shot of arousal through his system, knowing that Mihashi was digging through to find something to use with  _him_ , that they were going to do this, oh fuck, he’d wanted to do this for a while, probably, thinking back on all the times he’d caught himself staring at Mihashi in the locker room, all forgotten after a few moments but suddenly rushing back to him, and wow, yeah, okay, he really,  _really_  wanted to get fucked by Mihashi Ren. 

“Pants,” Abe groaned into his hand when he heard the crinkle of foil and knew Mihashi had found the small stash, and then the confused noise out of Mihashi’s mouth, so, “Take off your pants. And get over here.” He took his own advice, kicking desperately and wiggling until he was bare, knowing he was already wet and painfully hard without even having to look at himself. 

Mihashi scrambled, taking a little more time and being a little bit less wild with his motions, and Abe stared, heat poured into every inch of his veins at the sight of Mihashi’s circumcised dick, hard and surrounded by soft golden curls a shade darker than those on his head. Abe reached a hand out, and Mihashi took it, letting himself be pulled, settling on his side into the futon next to Abe as they stared for just a moment, condoms and lube still clutched in Mihashi’s hand as Abe ran his palm from his pitcher’s neck to his hip, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss on Mihashi’s shoulder, then another, and another, tracing a line to Mihashi’s neck and biting on the vibrations of a moan, sucking a mark that would last until morning but probably not longer. 

Abe grabbed the lube out of Mihashi’s weak hold, popping it open and slicking his fingers. He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against Mihashi’s jaw, then reached behind himself, adjusting his leg so he could reach. Mihashi clutched his bicep tightly, causing Abe to look up, their gazes locked and breath mixing. “Does… I thought…”

“Next time,” Abe breathed, leaning up and sucking Mihashi’s tongue into his mouth at the same time that he slid his middle finger into his ass. Mihashi moaned, arching forward, both of them groaning as their cocks rubbed together at the motion. Abe opened his mouth on a gasp when Mihashi’s hand slipped down to his thigh, hooking his leg over Mihashi’s hip, allowing his finger to go deeper. “This time, I want…” 

Mihashi whimpered against his mouth, nodding quickly, fingers tight on Abe’s thigh, and Abe stared at each contortion of Mihashi’s pleased face as he moved his hips forward, rubbing them together even as he slipped a second finger inside, wet and filthy and tight. His teeth ground together around Mihashi’s given name, and he thought it as he slicked in a third finger and fucked himself on his hand and against Mihashi’s cock, chanted it to himself,  _Ren, Ren, Ren,_ wondering if the soft gasps against his face were Mihashi doing the same thing, and the very thought of the blond saying ‘Takaya’ had Abe very, very ready. 

“Condom,” he grunted, watching as Mihashi pulled the foil packet open with a tug of teeth while Abe reached over to grab Mihashi’s hip, wrapping his own leg more securely around it, feeling his muscles quiver as he watched Mihashi struggle to get the latex over himself, and then Abe put more lube on his hand, reaching down and gripping Mihashi tight, savoring the way Mihashi muffled the whimper in his hair, hands likely bruising Abe’s biceps. He bucked mindlessly into Abe’s touch, breath rushing out on high-pitched cries that were soft but delicious, and then there was a sharp tug on Abe’s hair, and Mihashi smothering his lips with a brief kiss, “S-stop, I don’t… inside…” 

“Go slowly,” Abe responded, and Mihashi nodded, hand reaching down as Abe exhaled, feeling the slow trace of Mihashi’s fingers on his side down to his ass, the soft prodding of slicked latex and heat, the  _heat_ , the hard press of cock and oh gods Mihashi was pressing inside, fingers slipping off and gripping Abe’s ass to pull and spread him open, stressful centimeters passing until their hips were pressed snugly together, awed breaths mixing between them. 

Abe opened his mouth to tell Mihashi it was okay, that he could move, but the blond shifted his hips and instead Abe was rocketing forward, teeth sinking into Mihashi’s shoulder to muffle the groan and the low  _fuck_  that wanted to come out at the agonizingly pleasurable burn. Abe pushed hard on the floor, snuggled closer to Mihashi until their chests were pressed together, and Mihashi’s arm shifted until he was clutching Abe around the waist, Abe’s leg moving higher on Mihashi’s hip and curling around, pulling him deeper into each deep, slow thrust. Abe reached over, cupping Mihashi’s smooth throat and leaning in for a kiss, moaning around Mihashi’s tongue heavy in his mouth, tugging on that blond hair as he slid his hand around, breath harsh and fast and fuck, Mihashi tasted like his mother’s cooking, and somehow that touch of closeness to Abe’s home life had him mewling, clamping hard on Mihashi and bucking forward, earning a hard handful of scratches in the skin of his back and a clack of Mihashi’s forehead against his own. 

His mouth fell open, panting,  _harder_  he thought and maybe said, he wasn’t completely sure, but whether he did or not Mihashi gripped his thigh and brought him even closer, his own hips going from the slow, careful movements to harder, faster canting, until the room felt excruciatingly loud with their heady breaths and the sound of slapping flesh, and fuck, Abe would burn alive if Shun came in, or his parents, but he wouldn’t stop, couldn’t stop, not when Mihashi -  _Ren_  was fucking him with those almost pained noises coming out of his lips, face screwed up with pleasure as his nails dug into Abe’s thigh, faster and faster until Abe felt him shudder, felt the moment Mihashi came hard inside him before he heard it, smothered his pitcher’s open mouth with a kiss just in time to catch a low groan of ecstasy, just in time to muffle his own when a strong hand wiggled between their bodies and gripped Abe’s cock hard, stripping him fast, sweat and precum lubricating each stroke and then he was gripping Mihashi hard, panting into his hair,  _Ren, Ren, Ren,_ and he heard himself say it, over and over in the sheer whiteness of pleasure, felt the quivering joy of Mihashi against him, and each throb of his cock with orgasm until he was stiff and finished. 

He was slow to relax, melting into the futon, his whole body humming with pleasure and release. Mihashi pulled out as carefully as he’d gone in, and Abe reached up for the box of tissues that was blissfully nearby on his desk, cleaning the two of them from his mess and reaching behind to take care of where the lingering lube was a bit unpleasant. He then took the condom from Mihashi’s hands when he saw the helpless look on his pitcher’s face, tying it and placing it in the trashcan after wrapping it in the used tissues, and then finally melting into the futon, lifting an arm to tuck around Mihashi’s waist to pull him close. A gentle, satisfied lethargy hung heavily in every piece of his body, matched only by the softening exhales against his collarbones and the gentle movement of fingers on his back where Mihashi was clinging to him as well, calloused fingertips tracing about and making Abe want the night never to end.

“You… said Ren,” Mihashi said after a few moments, and Abe waited, because there had been a slight hook on the end of Mihashi’s statement, and then sure enough, “I liked it.”

“Me too,” Abe admitted, closing his eyes and burrowing his face in Mihashi’s hair. Really liked it. Wanted Mihashi to do the same for him.

“I also liked… your face,” Mihashi said, leaning up when Abe made a questioning noise. Tapped Abe’s face, fingers mussing with the stubble. “It’s scruffy. But… I don’t think I’d like it if it was much more. You have to shave every day, okay? And, and I’ll shave every day too, so I don’t get too scruffy for you, either.” 

Abe laughed and agreed, running his hands over Mihashi’s shoulders when the blond settled back down, tucking himself into place on Abe’s chest and exhaling a large breath as he went to fall asleep. A quiet happiness blossomed in Abe’s gut at the silent agreement they’d made, that there wouldn’t be a day anymore without them kissing at least a little bit, and he closed his eyes against the dark of the room that was very suddenly all-too bright.

 

 


End file.
